


Can't Say Goodbye to Yesterday

by ArtsyNeurotic



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Depression, Feels, M/M, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:13:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6134859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtsyNeurotic/pseuds/ArtsyNeurotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when you think you’re ready to move on, the Past decides to take a big one on your doorstep…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[ ](http://artsyneurotic.tumblr.com/post/140204378830/cant-say-goodbye-to-yesterday-part-1-maccready)

 

 

"I dreamed of you as an adult for so long. Here you are... and I'm so... _disappointed_." The words tumbled out of him, the hurt in his voice piercing as daggers.

The response was curt, controlled. "... **Goodbye** , father." A flash of light, and Shaun-- no, _Father_ , was gone.

Del stood there alone on the rooftop, the cold evening air nipping at his lips, his eyes suddenly tired and his heart aching like it hadn't in a long time, not since he had seen Nora dead and frozen before him months ago.

Felt like _ages_ ago.

His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as he scrunched his face tight, and he absently noticed his hands were shaking. He took a deep breath that hitched in the middle, lifting his head to stare at the night sky.

So many stars. _Nora loved the stars. ... Shaun could've too._

But that... that _man_ wasn't Shaun. He was more of a ghost, an after-image, twisted and distorted. The nightmare, the bad end. _He wasn't Shaun_ , Del's mind repeated to him, as if trying to convince himself. _Shaun died long ago, with her._

_I'm alone in this now. In all ...this._

MacCready had watched the scene play out from a secluded corner of the far end of the rooftop, obscured by a chimney. He had wanted to keep an eye out in case things went south during Del's meeting with Father, and it looks like it _had_ , just not in the way MacCready had been fearing. He knew the kind of guy Del was, that he'd admit he'd helped those synths, and he feared some grave _physical_ repercussions for admitting as much, but it appeared that for now at least that wouldn't be happening. He had shrewdly been watching the conversation through his sniper scope, and thankfully, from his years sharpshooting and tracking, he had gotten pretty good at lip-reading. From his angle he only saw Father's back, but he was in perfect view of Del's face, illuminated by the moonlight, and caught almost everything he had said. ... He also caught all the emotion on his face during the last bit of their exchange.

MacCready frowned. It was a face he was all too familiar with. The look of loss, of lonlieness, abandonment.

Pain.

He knew it so well that he was afraid to approach Del, afraid to intrude on that incredibly personal moment. MacCready slung his rifle over his shoulder and gently hopped off his small perch, walking slowly over to the silent figure. He had no clue how to broach the topic.

"Hey," he said gently, after a long pause. He didn't need to ask how it went, or offer any small talk; he already knew.

Del swallowed hard, his gaze still ever upward. "...Hey," he replied finally.

"For... for what it's worth," MacCready offered slowly, "I'm sorry."

Del's voice was thick. "... Yeah."

\-------

Del was noticeably quieter for a few days after that. He'd respond to others, but only very plainly and without saying anything major in return. _Guy's drowning in his thoughts_ , MacCready thought to himself. But what could he do? Before that night, he and Del had been slowly getting better acquainted with each other. They clearly enjoyed each others' company, and explored the Commonwealth together quite often. Del was a smartass, so was MacCready. Mac always kept people at a distance to protect himself, but he kept catching himself letting Del get closer and closer... and maybe that was okay.

Then Del had taken it upon himself to help MacCready in a major way; he helped him break into the Med-Tek facility to get the medicine to save his boy Duncan, and after that, Mac's view of Del would never be the same.

Here was a guy, who with no thought of reward or advantage to himself, helped him, **him** of all people. He'd racked his brain trying to think of a thank you gift for Del, as if that could somehow even **begin** to show his appreciation for what he did. Eventually, he was fortunate enough to come across some Caravan traders who acquired an extremely rare set of NCR Ranger gear from the West Coast. Gear like that was almost impossible to come by in the Commonwealth, and MacCready was instantly inspired. He had presented it to Del and was secretly overjoyed that Del accepted the gift, and even more pleased to see it become Del's favorite and most-worn outfit.

But after that evening with Father, Del had all but disappeared into that NCR coat. He turned out the collar, so that the flaps hid most of his face, and his newsboy cap was worn tight and low, covering whatever remained. He was so solitary, even when around people. MacCready offered on several occasions to go scouting with him, to go scavenge, to go crack some super-mutant skulls.

To do _anything_.

Sometimes Del would humor him, but the silence between them as they traveled often grew too deafening for MacCready to handle. Still, to his credit, he tried and tried again to tell a joke or leave an opening, hoping Del would bite. After a while, he got a few nibbles.

A chuckle here. A grunt there. It was something. He was slowly coming back to him. They joked together again. Started getting close again.

But then that all went to hell thanks to poor, well-meaning Codsworth.

It was a cool Fall Tuesday when Codsworth had excitedly approached Del.

"Sir! Sir!" he flailed, catching Del's eye.

"What's up, Codsworth?" Del was painting a wall at the Red Rocket HQ and paused a moment, bemused.

"Sir! I just had to find you, I've finally found something I had meant to give you quite a long time ago!" He drooped, flailing his claw in despair. "I was so ashamed, I thought I had lost it forever, but I've finally found it again!"

His claw whipped around from behind his back and procured something from his storage compartment. The polished cassette caught a bit of the midday sun and glistened. It was a holotape.

Del frowned. "What's the tape for?" he asked slowly.

"Sir," Codworth paused. If he was human he would've nervously licked his lips; he certainly sounded like he was. "It's a holotape of... of Mum."

The paintbrush slipped from Del's hand as he froze there, his eyes locked on the tape, his dead expression flickering briefly.

"What's... what's on the tape." His voice was dry as the sahara.

"I didn't want to pry, Sir," Codsworth apologized, "but from what I recall, it was a message she had meant for you to hear. Before... before everything happened, I'm afraid." His claw gently deposited the holotape into Del's hand. Del wordlessly nodded in appreciation and then abandoned his painting post, retreating upstairs to his office. Everything else was immediately forgotten.

\-------

Del hadn't come out of his office for almost two days.

MacCready had done his best trying to respect Del's space, but by the end of the second day he was worried. He paced outside the room until he couldn't take it anymore, and finally resigned himself to pressing his ear against the door. He couldn't make out the entirety of the tape, but he caught the important notes.

_"-- I don't think Shaun and I need to tell you how great of a father you are..."_

_"-- I know our best days are yet to come."_

_"-- But everything we do, no matter how hard... we do it for our family."_

_"-- Bye honey! We love you!"_

MacCready's face fell as he listened. That voice, it must've been her, Del's wife. Nora. She sounded so happy, it jabbed at Mac's heart, reminded him of Lucy, way back when. His ear detected the familiar click-clack of the tape ending... and then the clack of it rewinding and starting again. And then again. And again. His head rested helplessly against the door frame.   Del must've played it a hundred times or more over the last two days. He looked around. Everyone else had checked out for the night, finished their chores and duties and either headed back to Sanctuary or off to sleep elsewhere. The Red Rocket HQ was silent as a tomb. There wasn't anyone around to help him out; MacCready was on his own with this. He swallowed hard. He couldn't just leave him like this. After taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. The tape continued playing, but then clicked off. Silence.

MacCready ventured again. "... Del? ... You... you in there?" He was rewarded with a slight shuffling noise, but it stopped short.

"Del, please, it's... it's _important_." The shuffling restarted again, in more of a half-hearted attempt, until it was right behind the door. A click of the latch and it opened.

Del stared back at him, disheveled. His eyes were red; MacCready wondered if he had even slept at all, and his cheeks looked vaguely dirty and damp, so he must've been crying at some point that day.

"What," Del's voice nearly croaked, "what is it, Mac."

"Del?" MacCready tried touching Del's arm, but the light from the doorway made Del recoil backwards a little. "Jesus, Del, are you okay? We haven't seen you in almost two days!" He tried joking, "I mean, christ, Codsworth's gonna worry himself to pieces if you don't venture out every now and then!"

Del looked so tired. Far past exhausted. "I'm sorry, I..." He rubbed his eyes hard, and fought to keep his face from scrunching up.

"Hey, hey it's okay." MacCready's heart sank. He managed to work his way inside the room, comforting him. "Hey, how about you and I head over to Power Noodles for a little late night snack? I know you gotta be hungry because I haven't seen you leav--"

"I'm fine, Mac," was the curt response.

"Heh... what?" MacCready tried to play it off, "C'mon man, you can't just stay in here and--"

"I **said** I'm fine." This time there wasn't any tremor in the voice. Del's eyes flicked back over to the holotape on the table.

"Del," MacCready started, "you can't just stay in here forever."

"Why not," Del intoned. "If I'm here, with... with her," he looked at the tape again, "I can forget about all this. This... piece of shit world." A pained smile trickled across his face. "It's like I can stay in that moment in time... with my wife, and... and my son."

MacCready felt the pit of his stomach ice over. This was a dangerous path; he knew, he lived it himself once. It was so tempting, so absolutely inviting to lock yourself into a kinder time, when things were safer... _better_.   To say "screw it" to the outside world and live a lie.

He had to break him out of this. Del hadn't eaten and probably not slept in two days; delirium and depression were not a good combination. Mac carefully edged a little closer to the table.

"Del," he began as gently as he could, "I won't lie. When you told me about what the world was like before, hell... I was so damn jealous of what you had, what I'll never know."

A little closer.

"But," he continued, "you gotta be able to let those things rest, like I --" he caught on his own words painfully, "like I had to with Lucy. It's okay to love them, to remember them. ... But you have to let them go."

"I... I just..." Del sighed deeply, "I feel like if I do that, I'll--" His words dropped off sharply.

MacCready had deftly picked up the holotape while Del had stirred in his own emotions. He held it in one hand, a hand that was now watched intently by a **very** awake Del.

"MacCready," came the sharp hiss, "don't you **touch** that tape." The goddamn air crackled with tension, and in that brief moment, MacCready wondered if he made a mistake, but he pressed on.

"L-look, Del," he tried appeasing, holding the tape up, "it's just a tape. It's not your wife. Your wife's in **here** ," he tapped his chest with his other hand. Del's eyes were still transfixed to the holotape however.

"Put... the tape... down."

"Del, please," he pleaded, "I don't want to lose you to **this**! I don't want lose you to the memories in a damn holotape!" No response. "Will you just **listen** to me, damn it?!"

MacCready motioned angrily with his hand, a hand that had been coated in gun oil from cleaning his weapons earlier in the day. That swift motion slipped the holotape from Mac's slicked hand, and in abject horror he watched helplessly as the tape flew through the air, in slow motion. Both their eyes stared as the tape arced up and then hit the floor with a hideous smash that echoed through the room. MacCready's face paled.

"...S-shit, Del, I'm ... I'm so sor--" he faltered. He could've sworn that Del's nougat brown eyes went completely black for a second.   Del said absolutely nothing.

And then he was on MacCready like a blur. The flurry hit MacCready without warning, as he hit the floor hard, the back of his head smacking the floor boards with a crack. his left eye blacked out suddenly in a jolt of pain. He felt as if he was caught in a hurricane, and it was all he could do to hold his arms up in some semblance of defense. The rage from Del was hot as fire... and brutal.

"You son of a BITCH!" A grab. A half-choke. "That was all I HAD!" Through the blocking, MacCready distinctly felt wet drops hit his face. "The only thing.... That was the only thing **I HAD LEFT**!!"

And he ruined it. It was so tempting to just remove his hands and just accept the onslaught. He understood that pain all too well, and to cause it to someone he loved, he...

"I'm sorry," MacCready cried, "I'm so sorry..." Hot tears stung his eyes. God, he hurt everywhere.

As his strangled words escaped, it shocked Del out of his rage. Through his tears, he realized his anger had overtaken him, and fell back roughly onto his ass, his chest heaving, trying to catch his breath. His vision shuddered as he brought his hands down to his sides. He shook and quaked with delirious exhaustion and so much released pent-up emotion. After he finally caught his breath, he looked over at MacCready and paled.

MacCready's arms were still up and braced defensively over his face. His hat had fallen and was lying crumpled near his head. There were scrapes and a little blood here and there, but as he finally lowered his arms, he revealed the large black eye Del had given him.

Del trembled, horrified. He glanced at his own scuffed knuckles.

He did this.

"MacCready, I..." he couldn't comprehend what had happened, his head was spinning. _What kind of fucking monster am I?_ He reached out to MacCready and then recoiled. This was too much. He couldn't process anything anymore. Abruptly, he got up and stumbled out of the room. MacCready managed to sit up a bit and heard the torrent of steps down the stairs and then the clatter of the door downstairs.  

_Del..._

MacCready reached out, but it was far too late. He was left alone and bruised in the office, with pieces of someone else's shattered memories strewn around him.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more you try to hold on, the more it slips away…

  _[(Music inspiration for this chapter! Listen while reading for extra feels)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dtx3vQI1Rk4&feature=youtu.be&list=PLGSePKO-i4FsrkYj5ri6JF8RAR8wXAe6U)_

 

Del couldn't remember how long he had wandered.  His body seemed to move of its own accord, even as his mind was still reeling from before.  It felt like hours had passed, maybe more, when he finally collapsed on the grounds of the Castle.  

The Minutemen on duty rushed to help him, sending word for Preston, who had been reading quietly in one of smaller rooms.  He dropped what he was doing when he heard that the General had arrived and summarily fainted.  They had carefully placed him in one of the more secluded beds in the rear of the facility, calling for one of the volunteer doctors to take a look at him.  Preston oversaw the event.  After a few minutes, Del managed to open an eye and weakly look at him.

"Preston," he whispered.

"General, what **happened**?" he asked, concerned.  

"It's... it's fine," he lied through his teeth.  An image of bruised MacCready flashed in his mind.

"Well, we're going to make sure you're okay, you just rest up and relax, all right?"  Preston patted Del's shoulder gently.  "If you want, I can let the others know-" Del grabbed his hand.

"Please... don't tell anyone I'm here."  It was a request, but one with a tone that begged for acceptance.

"Sure, General... Sure."

Del's eye rolled back and he fell into and uneasy and deep sleep.

 

\-----

 

Del was effectively off the radar for a couple days.  He asked to stay hidden, and true to his word Preston abided by it, despite feeling a little odd about the whole thing.   _It's not my business_ , he reminded himself, _and I know the General must have a good reason_.  As long as he was in a safe location, it was enough for him.

MacCready on the other hand, was left in the middle of what he had wrought.  He managed to gather up all the pieces of the shattered holotape, but had no clue what to do with them.  He asked Sturges the following morning what the chances were that he could work his magic and fix it, but Sturges made the kind of sour expression that signified it'd take a miracle to piece it back together again, much less in actual working condition.

A few people inquired as to his injuries, in particular the large black-eye bruise he'd received.  Nick suspected something, but MacCready merely waved it off, claiming he'd gotten on the wrong end of a Deathclaw the previous day and had actually been pretty lucky just to get the black-and-blues that he did.

He bit his lip.   _I guess that's not_ **_totally_ ** _far from the truth_ , he thought ruefully.

He tried casually inquiring as to Del's whereabouts, but strangely enough the answer was always the same; no one had seen a hair of him since that day.  It was as if he'd disappeared off the face of the planet.

MacCready's heart sank, but it only strengthened his resolve to keep looking.  After checking in with the others at Red Rocket, he set out with a decent-sized pack of supplies and spent the better part of the next couple of days searching for Del.   

Stupid, idiot.   _If something happened to him, I'll never forgive myself._

 

\-----

 

Del's dreams were fraught with nightmarish visions.  

His wife's frozen corpse.  

Kellogg, just moments before Del blew his brains out.  The look on his face just before it happened, frozen in time.  That damn defiant curl of his lips.

His baby.

_Father._

All these images swirled together in a mismatched sequence, a broken record that repeated over and over.  And amongst those, a more vivid one forced its way to the forefront.

MacCready.

Sitting on the dusty floorboards.  Hurt and confused.  Alone.

 

\-----

 

The squawking from a bird outside broke Del out of his feverish haze.  As he woke he felt the sunlight from the window stream across his face.  Where was he?  He didn't even know what day it was.

He looked over at the desk near him and saw a few random papers thrown around.  One of them had a couple dates on it. _... Looks like I've been out for a few days._ He rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly.  That night was still fresh in his mind.  Del tried not to think too deeply about it, like someone trying to avoid touching a fresh bruise.

He could faintly hear the Minutemen radio blaring in the courtyard far away and remembered where he had ended up.  "Some instincts, huh," he muttered to himself.  He kicked the sheets off and sat upright in the bed, feet planted on the ground.

For a good long while he just sat there, transfixed.  Though he was in a different place, his situation was still the same.  The same reality was still right in front of him.   He put his head in his hands and sighed.  

From between his fingers, he gazed over at the paper at the desk, and a small glass full of hand-sharpened pencils.  Del stood up slowly and sat down at the desk, took out a fresh piece of paper, and began to write.

...

Some time later, after finishing, Del folded his letter and stuck it in his pocket.  He gathered up his gear and briefly checked himself over in the broken mirror near the desk.  He looked like a real mess, eyes were still a little bleary and his hair was screaming for a comb, but only received a few rushed fingers through it for its trouble.

Del made his way outside and found Preston near the front gates.

"General!" He greeted, relieved, "I'm glad to see you seem to have made a recovery."

"Yeah, thanks, Preston."  He managed a small smile.  "I'm going to head back to the Red Rocket, in case... in case anyone's looking for me."

"You got it.   ...Just take it easy all right?"  Something had definitely happened, but he didn't venture further.

He nodded shortly.  "Sure."

 

\-----

 

About an hour later, MacCready had made his way over to the Castle.  His long sweep of the Commonwealth had been extensive, but so far unfortunately rather fruitless.  He had checked every settlement on the way, to no avail.  The Castle was one of the last ones on the list.

"Well as I live and breath, _MacCready_ ," Preston joked, "Haven't seen you around here in quite a while!  Man, you sure look like hell warmed over."

"Yeah... uh, you know, **Deathclaws** ," Mac replied curtly.  "Anyway, Garvey, have you... um... have you seen 'the General' around at all?"

Preston raised an eyebrow.  "Yeah, funny you mention that.  He was here earlier, just left not more than maybe an hour ago."

MacCready almost slapped himself full in the face.   _Why the hell hadn't I tried here_ **_first_ **?  But that was okay, he was just so thrilled to finally have a scent on this trail.  "Did he say where he was going?"

"Yeah, the Red Rocket."

Mac turned heel and started running off as soon as Preston finished his sentence.  "Thanks, Garvey!"

Preston rolled his eyes and shouted back, "You **know** you can call me Preston, right?"

 

\-----

 

Del had an hour headstart, but MacCready tried his damndest to close the distance.  Still, night had fallen by the time he arrived at the Red Rocket, and his lungs were definitely burning from the exertion.  He clumsily knocked the front door open, and paused to catch his breath.

"H-Hey..." He started uneasily, "Hey Del, you here?"

Nothing.

Louder.  "Del?"  His self-conscious voice echoed through the silent building.

_Damn it._  Despite his best efforts, he'd come up short, **again**.  He set down his pack, but instinctively kept his rifle slung over his shoulder.  He wandered morosely through the entryway, looking for any signs that Del had at least been there.

_God damn it!_  He smacked the door frame with his fist.  He heard the sound of paper rustling, and looked over at the side table.   A folded note sat there, half-opened, as if beckoning him.

He hesitated briefly, his stomach knotting up... but he grit his teeth and snatched up the paper, opening it gingerly.

 

_Mac,_

_I don't think "sorry" can really cut it.  I can tell you I never meant to hurt you... but that doesn't change the fact that I did.  I can make excuses, but those don't take back what I did either.  I'm selfish; I'm_ **_beyond_ ** _stupid._

_...But for what it's worth, please believe me when I say how sorry I am._

_You were right.  That tape... that tape wasn't my wife.  My wife is dead and there's nothing I can do about it._

_I know you understand what it's like to lose something, some_ **_one_ ** _important to you.  I've had to come to terms with that and more.  My wife, my... my son.  To have them wrenched away.  But not only that..._

_Tell me, MacCready... what would you do, if everything in your world was just... just gone?  All in an instant.  Your home.  Your family. Your dreams._

_Your whole_ **_life_ ** _._

_Wandering through a world that fears and doesn't understand you.  A remnant of some other time.  A relic that's like an old jigsaw puzzle piece tossed in a box that isn't its own._

_...That can never fit._

_You're a survivor, Mac.  That's something I always loved about you.  I know it's hard, but you do it every day.  You_ **_persevere_ ** _.  And you do it with that goddamn smirk and mouth of yours.  Every time you cracked a joke, I forgot for just a moment, of what I was.  I... I thank you for that.  For the comfort I felt with you._

_For... you._

_But I can't completely forget.  I can't forget I'm out of my element. Out of my time._

 

_...I don't belong here._

 

_I'm sorry, Mac._

_\- Del_

 

_ _

 

MacCready's eyes widened.   _No..._ He flipped the paper over, hoping for some addendum or P.S. or **something** saying he hadn't really meant it, but the other side of the page was traitorously blank.

_No!_  He dropped the paper, scrambling outside.  The blood began pounding in his ears as he frantically looked around.   _Del couldn't, he just couldn't!_ He ran to the outskirts of the Red Rocket HQ and squinted at the horizon.  The night worked against him; the lack of light made anything in the distance difficult to make out, and he had no idea which direction Del could've started in.  He ripped his rifle from his sling and began aiming around, adjusting his scope.

_Please be somewhere._  Mac thoroughly scanned the area, adjusting his scope as necessary for maximum range.  His eyes caught movement and then cursed as he realized it was just a pair of bloatflies skittering between a set of old, leafless trees.

As the minutes went by, his stomach twisted more and more.  He was searching blind; what if he was looking in the opposite direction?  What if Del was long gone by now?  He hadn't left enough to track by, and the fall leaves scattered everywhere made searching for footprints a daunting task... until he happened upon a nearly obscured set of them.  Boots.  Size 10 or so... just like Del's.  Like a bolt he was on the weak trail, moving up a path that seemed to be headed to Sanctuary.

As he reached the base of a large hill adorned with orange and brown leaves, he heard a rustle.  His scope snapped upwards and he caught a glimpse of a silhouette.  A man, difficult to make out, but definitely one in a coat.  He appeared to be seated at the top of the hill, gazing out at Sanctuary far below him.  There was very little movement from the figure.

_Del..._

The man was fumbling with something.  Mac lowered his scope a little.  What was he doing there? _Maybe he had changed his mind...?_ Or maybe MacCready managed to catch him after all, maybe he--

Mac's face blanched.  His gun clattered to the autumn ground and he burst into a run as if his life depended on it.

 

\-----

 

The night was cool and quiet.  A soft breeze rustled through the sparse trees on the hilltop, flittered through Del's unkempt hair.  He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.  For a small moment, he was almost back again.

Straightening up his collar, he made his way to the very top of the hill, surveying the landscape briefly.  Sanctuary blinked back at him a little, the small lights and fires warmly glowing in the distance.  

_Life really does find a way, even in this place.  Doesn't it...?_

He sat down on a pile of leaves, exhaling and rubbing his eyes.  He dug his boots into the soft ground beneath him, and rested his arms on his knees.  

He sat like that for a long while, like a statue of the past, looking out over the present.

_They'll be fine._

Del may have helped start them up again, but the Minutemen were doing all right by his account.  Every day they grew in numbers.  They fixed.  They built.  He couldn't help but smile.   _One settlement at a time_ , he chuckled to himself.

He didn't have a plan, but it hurt too much to stay.  Too many reminders.  Too many things he had screwed up.  Would he venture west?  Go to the coast and just wither away in some corner?  Maybe wander into the Glowing Sea and take his chances... just to stare into the harsh new world and see if it blinked back.

Something poked him at his hip, distracting him momentarily.  He looked down and lifted the flap of his coat.   _Oh, that thing._  Always on his hip, but completely forgotten about.

Kellogg's revolver glinted back at him derisively.  He'd carried it on him ever since that fateful day, but had never actually used it.  Del retrieved the old hunk of metal from its holster and lay it across his hands.  It was a mess of a gun, large and ugly, scuffed and dirty, but even in the moonlight it held its own odd charm.  Its sharp edges caught the dim light just right, and Del traced the contours of the grip all the way to the top of the sights.

_What kind of man wields a gun like this?_ he mused.  Large, loud, unrefined.   _Yeah, that seemed like Kellogg all right._  His fingers tightened around the grip.  Lifting it up, he aimed down the revolver's sights, off into the dark.   

He was there again.  In that moment.  Trapped in the cryo tube, staring at the scene unfolding in front of him.  Kellogg aiming at his wife.  Now the scene played so simply.  There was never anything he could do.  No way to stop it, to turn it back, to appeal to the monster.  The gun went off, as it always did in his nightmares. Nora's body slumping over.  Her life fading out of her even as Del helplessly pounded his frozen fists on the glass.  He wanted to scream, to shout bloody murder... but the sound never came.  His lungs betrayed him, as if even they were too shocked by what he saw to react.

He turned the gun over in his hand, noticing a little extra grime in the grips.  A little leftover crimson darkened by time.   _I wish it had_ **_done_ ** _something.  I wish killing that bastard would've_ **_done_ ** _something._ But it hadn't.  All it did was solidify what his life had become.  The ultimate point of no return.

_This gun must've seen a lot of action it its life._  Del wondered absently how many people had been at the mercy of this thing.  He turned the revolver around, and stared at the barrel.  Funny how vast and vacant the gun's muzzle looked at this angle.  It was like looking into a void.   _I wonder what people thought at that moment._ For all the killing he had done, for all the wasteland uglies that had peered down his gun, he'd never really given it much thought.  He sighed.   _I guess at that point, what's really the use in thinking anymore, anyway?_  He tilted the barrel up and leaned it against his forehead.  The muzzle pressed to his brow.  The cool metal icily spread across his skin as he propped it there.  In an odd way, it felt nice.

The whistle of the night wind.  The cold bite of the steel on his skin.  He closed his eyes, taking it all in.  It was strangely... calming in that moment.  

His thumb lightly traced the lines of the trigger.

...

A tremendous force rushed into him, knocking him roughly off his seat and onto the dry leaves at the base of the hill, landing on his back.  His hands flew apart and Kellogg's revolver danced into the evening air, shining once and then lost in the darkness below.  Del reeled from the fall, but realized immediately a large form was on top of him, grabbing his arms.

It was MacCready... though he had never seen him like this before.  His hat was gone, his hair frantic and loose everywhere.  He looked as if he had just run a mile dash in a few seconds, his red face a combination of strangled breaths and coughs.  MacCready's eyes were wide and frightened beyond belief, and as Del settled a bit, recognized that he was shaking terribly.  His small chest was pounding and shuddering, and his grip on Del's arms quivering with each fast, desperate breath of air he took.

"Mac...?"

At the mention of his name, MacCready's face contorted, just a half-step away from outright tears.  His voice quaked.  "What... just **what** the hell do you think you're **doing**?"

"I... I don't-"

"Stop!  Just," MacCready's eyes glistened like glass, "Just **stop** ! I don't want to hear any bullshit excuse you'd try to cook up."  Del blinked.  MacCready hadn't even tried to block himself from cursing.  "Because the answer will still be the same.  God..." his voice hitched, "god, Del, I **saw** your note, I-I didn't know what the hell to do!  I searched for you for **days** , and... a-and then I saw you on the hill here with that gu-" A sob forced itself out of him involuntarily, but he struggled to keep talking.

"Please Del, I know this world **sucks** .  I know we're... **_I'm_ ** not as good as what you lost, and I'll probably never be," his brows twisted in pain, "but there's still a lot of good stuff in this world!  There're people that care about you, people who will do _anything_ for you."

Del felt his heart ache at Mac's sobbing.

"This can still be a world you can be a part of!  We'll build it together... you and me!"  his wide eyes pleaded.  "I... I know I try to act like things don't faze me as much, b-but... they **do**."  MacCready's grip on Del's arms loosened, as he scrunched his eyes to attempt to stop the flow of tears.  

"I need you, Del.  ... I... I just can't lose someone important to me again."  The corners of Mac's mouth shuddered, completely failing to hold in his pain.  "I..." he took a deep breath.

"...I-I **love** you," Mac sputtered, pressing his palm to his face, quivering as the sobs refused to relent, "ngh, _dammit_..."

Del was floored, to say the least.  This man of top of him had just bared his soul.  A man who for so long had kept everything bottled up, kept everyone at a distance.  He'd tried to stay cool and pragmatic to the outside world, but... he was really a lot like him.  MacCready's pain resonated with Del, and Del felt a pang of intense guilt.

He'd been steeped in his own pain for so long that he hadn't given much consideration to anything outside of that.  But _everyone_ suffers.   _Everyone_ hurts, don't they...?   He could still see that moment in time, him and Nora, holding Shaun. _Happy_.  

But that was another life... and he'd been ignoring his new one.  

At the very least, he owed it to the people that cared about him to give it a **real** shot.  Without being tied to the past.  A wave of regret washed over Del, and made his voice thick.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Mac." He raised a hand and gently squeezed MacCready's arm.  "...You're right."  He looked up at Mac's poor face.  "I wasn't being fair.   **You're right**."  His own fingers trembled a little as he wiped MacCready's damp cheek.  Mac sniffled loudly in response, but had calmed down.

Del smiled.  A tired, weary smile, but a genuine one regardless.

"I'll give this world my best chance."

 


End file.
